


Resfeber / Dérive / Sillage

by aykayem



Series: Fifty-two words [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykayem/pseuds/aykayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're going on holiday to a place where no one knows our names."</p><p>Somehow, those simple words reassured Draco more than he understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resfeber

  
_resfeber_  
(n.) the restless race of the traveller's heart before the journey begins, when anxiety and anticipation are tangled together; a 'travel fever' that can manifest as an illness

It was not long after the war trials had finally been sorted out, and that was probably what contributed to half of the feeling budding within Draco. He'd been let off, his family had been let off, Theo had been let off. They were the only ones, and only because they could both prove that they were all unwilling participants, little better than those under the influence of the Imperius, and could throw the rest of the living Death Eaters under the bus. None of the others were getting out, not within Draco's lifetime, and they'd all made sure of that. He still remembered the looks on their faces as they glared at him and his father, led out to what would effectively be their demise. There was no bouncing back from the Kiss. But those looks stuck with him, and he felt as though they would stick with him for a very long time to come, even when his memory was shot, and he thought of nothing but those dead eyes staring at him, wishing he was there to join them like he ought to have been; they would manifest in nightmare, and in the dark of closed eyelids, he knew.

He let out a long shuddering sigh, a shiver running down his spine; he thought he was cold for a moment, but it was just the memories. It was a miracle they'd been let off, Draco still thought, his mind nowhere near as confident as it had been before the war. He no longer thought he would get through life unscathed, with everything handed to him; he now believed that he'd have to scrape and scramble for things like he never imagined he'd have to. He'd had everything, and now he had nothing.

Well, not quite nothing.

Draco glanced to the side, over to where Theo was pacing as they waited for the Portkey to activate. It had been Theo's idea to take a trip, to get away from everything in England that neither of them wanted to deal with. Draco's parents had agreed with ease, knowing full well that the alternative was their son sitting in his room, looking miserable. It had only taken a week to jump through the hoops of getting a Portkey to Rome, possibly because the poor girl in charge of it all had lived under a rock her whole life, and Theo simply managed to keep his mouth in check for a change. When he thought about the process his best friend must have gone through, he had to laugh. It was an awkward sort of sound, like the last year or so had made him forget how to laugh, how to smile, how to project confidence and self-assurance to the rest of the world. It was a good thing Theo had never been around to hear it.

That initial hysteria had passed, giving way to something Draco couldn't quite isolate; he knew it was a direct result of their impending trip. It was a sort of nausea that twisted and churned and kept him from eating, but was simultaneously not filled with the dread that he'd come to expect along with his loss of appetite. This was a sort of excitement, a strange sensation, as though he hadn't quite lost his ability to anticipate things happily. He hadn't done that in ages, since perhaps fifth year - it was a long time ago, so much so that he felt it was more than just two years and change.

"Would you stop pacing? You're making me ill," Draco finally murmured, his voice catching on the wind. Theo immediately stopped, looking over with a sort of surprise. As though he was floored his friend had actually spoken. It wouldn't be so hard to imagine that as the case, given that Draco hadn't exactly been chatty for the last little while. One hand pushed through Theo's typically messy hair, and then the other man sighed and dropped to the grass next to Draco.

"Maybe you feel ill because you haven't eaten anything in three days," Theo retorted, making a face.

"Maybe I feel ill because you haven't stopped pacing since we got here half an hour ago. And I seem to recall you pacing even before that. Nervous?"

"Hardly."

But Theo kept eyeing Draco, just a little bit. His expression was mostly guarded, as though there was something in it he didn't want seen, even by his best friend, but there was a clear thread of concern in it. Draco recognised that much, even if he didn't think about the details of it.

"What?" He finally asked, voice mild instead of potentially biting.

Theo's tongue flicked out, nervously wetting his lips, "Nothing."

Draco eyed him for another brief moment, wondering just how much to push the matter, then merely glanced forward again, focusing some of his attention on the rather plain ladies' shoe sitting in the grass just in front of them. They were still ahead of schedule, the Portkey not set to activate for another ten or fifteen minutes, perhaps. Draco wasn't keeping track; he was a bit too concerned with the way he felt feverish with nerves. His heart felt like it was pounding a tattoo in his chest, but when he thought about it, his pulse hadn't changed; his lungs felt as though they weren't expanding quite as much, but when he took a deep breath, they seemed fine. It seemed nothing more than psychological, and he wondered for a moment if he weren't going insane.

Perhaps it was worry that something might happen to his family while they were gone, perhaps it was merely the fact that he hadn't gone anywhere in years, and who knew how they'd be received. Draco's breathing hitched a little, and Theo just reached over, one hand splaying reassuringly between his shoulder blades.

Theo's eyebrows arched, asking the question that he probably wasn't going to verbalise. He didn't have to, and that was the real crux of the matter; Draco knew exactly what that expression was asking the moment he glanced over at it curiously. He just sighed, shaking his head a little.

"Have you ever felt like you're not sure if you dread something, or if you're excited?" He asked quietly, his voice soft beneath the gentle breeze that ruffled the trees surrounding their little glade. His friend went quiet for a moment or two, frowning a little. Draco could feel Theo's fingers lightly smoothing out his shirt, and he wondered in the back of his mind if it wasn't just an excuse to reach out and touch him. It probably was, but who was he to complain?

"Probably. Just never recognised it as such," Theo replied, still frowning at him. "That's what's making you sick?"

Draco just nodded, reaching up to push back a loose lock of hair that tried to escape over his forehead. Not that there was anyone around for miles to see; they were as isolated as isolated could be. 

"Seems to me like you need to take up meditation or something like that," Theo murmured under his breath, and Draco glanced over, giving him a dark look. "What? Isn't it better than saying you're just round the bend, and there's no hope for you? Because that's my next suggestion, but I didn't think you'd like it all that much."

"You're a git," Draco offered in return, rolling his eyes.

"Uh huh," Theo simply answered, pausing only a moment before leaning over to press a soft kiss to Draco's mouth. It took the blond by surprise, judging by the way he simply blinked for a moment before thinking to return it, one hand lifting out of his lap a little as though he meant to reach over and pull Theo closer. He didn't, though neither did he pull away.

Eventually, it was Theo who pulled away first, and even then, not by much. His cheeks had flushed slightly pink, and his hand had migrated from the middle of Draco's back to around his shoulders. "It's going to be fine, mate. We're going on holiday to a place where no one knows our names. No one even speaks our language. It's going to be brilliant."

Draco nodded slowly, remaining in silence as his eyes studied Theo. When he focused on himself, he found that some of the nauseated feeling had abated, and as he slowly let out a breath, nodding with a bit more conviction, he almost started to feel good about the trip. A murmured agreement had a smile tugging at Theo's mouth.

"Good. Now come on, the thing just lit up. Let's get out of this hellhole."


	2. Dérive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco was getting more and more comfortable with the idea of escaping their old lives; it was likely the influence of the city all around them, enveloping them and inviting them in.

  
_dérive_  
(n.) lit. "drift"; a spontaneous journey where the traveller leaves their life behind for a time to let the spirit of the landscape and architecture attract and move them

They'd made it to Rome in record time, found themselves in a hotel within the hour, and had unpacked almost entirely before either of them ended up saying a word. Draco was rendered mostly speechless both by the method of travel (Portkey never sat that well with his sensitive stomach) and by the landscape itself; Theo was content letting Draco have his silence, knowing full well he'd speak when he wanted to. It was an understanding they'd come to long ago, when Theo had figured out that forcing Draco to do anything he didn't really want to would result in the blond getting progressively more grumpy.

So far, it seemed not like he was grumpy, but more that he was reeling. Whether from culture shock, or the fact that they'd actually gotten out of the country, or thanks to all manner of other things that Theo could really only imagine, he didn't know. He figured that too would come up when Draco felt that it ought to.

The blond stood at the open balcony of their hotel room - one room, one king sized bed; Theo justified it to himself in that it was cheaper, and when they didn't know how the reparations would look against their vaults, thrift was key, but the truth of the matter was simply that he wanted to curl up next to his best friend every night they were there - simply staring out over the cityscape. It was a beautiful location, the ornately carved balcony settling over a relatively bustling street that put them smack-dab in the middle of culture, with a view of the skyline. He was watching the sun slowly set, by the looks of it, his shoulders settled into a looser line than usual. Normally, Draco was so tense; he looked like he was wound tighter than he could stand, like he might suddenly snap at any moment. It didn't bode well for anyone, and yet, here he seemed all right. Theo swallowed a knot in his throat, padding across the room from where he'd just set the last of his things out for easy grabbing. They were staying long enough to warrant not living out of trunks, after all.

"Draco?"

"Did you just how beautiful it was going to be when you picked this room?" Draco quietly asked, still leaning against the railing, grey eyes locked out on the spray of colours in the sky.

Theo shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing out over the surrounding area, and shrugged one shoulder in a casual way. "Yeah. I might've scoped it out once or twice." That wasn't quite true: he'd actually spent quite a bit of time doing research, finding the best place to stay to best surround them with culture and colour and everything that was inherently ' _not England_ '. That was what they needed; that was what _Draco_ needed.

There was another bout of silence, though nothing about it felt tense or anxious. It was just silence, something comfortable that stretched out and wrapped them both up like an old, familiar blanket.

"Well, it's wonderful."

"Thanks." _It's for you_ , he didn't add. He kept that to himself, his heart in his throat as he thought about the way he'd so spontaneously kissed Draco in that clearing, the way neither of them had acknowledged it since then. Draco was smart, Theo knew, and there was no chance that he'd have missed all the signs since then. He'd have put it all together in his head at some point.

The city seemed to roll out forever around them, all ancient buildings and glowing orange lights that made it seem like they'd stepped back in time. Finally, Draco twisted, facing Theo a little bit more so he could gesture his friend over. "You have to see this. And not from back there, either - we both know that's a terrible vantage point."

Theo's face warmed a little as he crossed from the middle of the room over to Draco, pausing just a step back from him for half a moment. The stutter in his step was almost imperceptible, though the curve along the blond's mouth - faint, of course - suggested that he'd seen it. That curve was invitation enough, and instead of leaning against the railing beside Draco, Theo stepped up behind him, both hands passing around him to reach the railing that way instead. He remained nervous for a moment before one hand curved around Draco's waist; he could practically feel Draco's pleased smirk curving wider as the blond turned back towards the skyline to hide it.

"We needed this," he murmured, leaning back against Theo a little bit more. It only took that little shift to make the brunet's breath hitch, his hand tensing a little as if he wanted to grab Draco and drag him closer, until their bodies simply melded together from proximity alone.

"Yeah, we did," he answered, trying to keep his voice even as he shifted, ducking his head a little so he could nudge his nose against the soft skin of Draco's throat, inhaling that familiar scent that was inherently him. His lips brushed a quiet kiss against that same patch of skin moments later, and he could feel more than hear the way a soft chuckle rumbled within the blond.

Draco twisted again at that point, one arm finding itself draped around Theo's shoulders so he could drag his friend closer, into a sudden but lazily passionate kiss. It dragged on as the sun set, tucking itself down behind the expanse of skyline visible from the window, breaking only when they finally came up for air.

"You're not subtle at all, mate," Draco murmured against Theo's mouth, that smirk making its eager return as Theo felt his cheeks warm further with embarrassed colour that he'd been caught. Then again, it had obviously worked out in his favour, so maybe it wasn't so bad.


	3. Sillage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the last day of their trip, and Draco's very essence seems to have clung to the hotel room.

  
_sillage_  
(n.) the scent that lingers in air, the trail left in water, the impression made in space after something or someone has been and gone; the trace of someone's perfume

It was their last day of their trip, and Draco had gone out for a bit of air. Or maybe a bit of shopping. Something to eat. Theo honestly didn't really remember what the blond's murmured excuse had been; all he recalled was that Draco said he'd be back soon, and headed out. It was fine: he was making the most of the time by packing up the last of his things anyway.

Sometime within the first hour, he found himself distracted by the complete silence in the hotel room. Despite having a constant stream of thoughts running through his head - everything from what Draco was doing to how he ought to fold his clothing to accommodate the fact that he might've gone on a shopping spree to why people fold their clothing at all to the general history of clothing and then back to Draco yet again - Theo found himself oddly alone. Not quite lonely, but definitely alone.

He dropped himself onto the end of the bed with a small bounce, and shut his eyes, letting the air of the room circulate around him. It was a deep breath of unfamiliarity, appreciating it for everything that it was: it wasn't England, and he was really going to miss this adventure. It had ended much too quickly; they had to return to their normal lives, hopefully without any sort of unfortunate repercussions. He wasn't thinking about that, funnily enough. It didn't even register, not even for a half-second. That, in and of itself, was a rarity, but not one Theo was going to take for granted. Honestly, he was much more content ruminating properly on a handful of things: the way Rome looked and smelled and felt, the way it had opened its arms and welcomed two wizards in, granting them anonymity for a time.

Draco's shampoo was on the crisp afternoon air, tinging with the smells of something cooking that wafted in from outside. It was immediately recognisable, all woodsy and fresh, and cut through everything unfamiliar. Almost like it wanted to be caught, like it had a mind of its own and wanted to remind Theo of what he had just within his grasp. _For how much longer?_ , his mind asked, and he shooed the thought off with a frown, pushing himself up from the edge of the bed so he could press through the room like a knife cutting through butter, pacing a little to clear his mind.

It didn't work very well, unfortunately. Draco's scent seemed to cling to everything there, reminding Theo quite vividly of the way they'd made the most of their anonymity and the king-sized bed. His shampoo, his cologne, the impression of where he'd slept on half of his own pillow and half of Theo's. The brunet couldn't help but chuckle at that, almost tempted to fluff the impression out before remembering that there was housekeeping for a reason, and he needn't bother.

Instead, he paced the room slowly again, surveying the area with a critical eye and a very simple aim to remember everything that they'd done. It had been a brilliant trip, probably never to be captured again. Things just wouldn't fall quite right for it to be so easily duplicated: it was the combination of the circumstances, of the spontaneity of it all. Of everything. That was why it had gone so well, and why he could now picture Draco's easy, drunken smile from the night before when he closed his eyes again.

Theo let loose his concerns with a sigh, brushing them off as nothing as he told himself to just let well enough alone. Let it be. They still had a few hours, after all.

"What in the hell are you doing?" A familiar voice asked from the door, an audible sense of amusement to it that Theo was aware of without even turning around.

"Taking it all in," he explained, twisting to grin at Draco, who merely rolled his eyes and strode back into the room, dropping a bag of baked goods on the edge of the bed and a pair of those 'to go' cups from cafes on the bedside table.

"Sounds like you've gone out of your mind, honestly."

"Yeah, maybe. What's it to you if I have, Malfoy?"

"I can't be seen associating with a known madman," Draco drawled. "You know that. Now come get your tea before it gets cold."

"You didn't seriously bring snacks?" Theo chuckled, winding around the bed so he could peek into the takeaway bag, at all manner of baked goods.

"I got hungry. It's hardly good form to just get something for myself and leave you here to starve."

Theo shot Draco's peripheral vision a pleased grin that softened for a moment as he let it linger; he stepped a little bit closer, one hand just barely grazing against Draco's back as he moved to press a kiss against the blond's throat and immediately stepped back again. Almost as though nothing had happened at all. In keeping with it, he simply dug for something to go with his tea, some form of pseudo-muffin that looked particularly delicious.

When he glanced back up, Draco was merely staring at him, a faint flush creeping up his face and neck, his expression torn between curiosity and interest.

"What?"

"So what the hell were you actually doing when I came back?" The blond merely asked, changing the topic with a certain level of effortlessness that was so rarely achieved by the average individual. It was something to be admired, honestly.

"Did you know that you shed on all the pillows? And that your cologne reeks to the point that it's stunk up the place semi-permanently?" Theo responded, a grin playing at his lips to accompany the tease. Draco reached over, pulling a face as he gave his best friend a proper shove and a murmured _sod off_.


End file.
